


Un, Deux, Menage a Trois

by AVagueDownwardSaunter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Its Black Eyes Search My Soul And Find It Wanting, Polyamory, The Plushie Is Displeased With My Lack Of Alacrity, Yuri
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-01-17
Packaged: 2019-03-06 00:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13399848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVagueDownwardSaunter/pseuds/AVagueDownwardSaunter
Summary: It took some time, but Amélie had finally started to put herself back together after her deprogramming. There was only really one thing missing from her, and she'd had it torn out a long time ago. Gerard was gone; there was nothing she could do to change that, and the girl had wormed her way into that empty space that she'd forgotten ached all the time.So on a day when the rest of the world was giving gifts and celebrating life, she went down to the graveyard and said goodbye for real. She was ready to move forward.She picked up flowers. She went to her window.She saw her wife.She couldn't cry anymore, so she ran.But the world isn't always as clear-cut as we assume, and people aren't always as simple as we think.





	1. Along Came A Spider

**Author's Note:**

> This piece is another old one that I hadn't posted here yet. I'm still sort of fiddling with it and making minor progress from time to time, but it's not my main project anymore by a long shot, as much as I adore this ship. I started writing this like two Christmases ago when I saw a tumblr post by LuxLin, and it definitely consumed my muse for a few months. Hopefully you'll enjoy it!

“Cheers, Amélie, wotcher?” A smile crept across the French woman’s face for a split second before the pain wrenched at her slow-beating heart again. Even a week later, it refused to go away.

Still, she could hardly ignore Lena Oxton. The woman was implacable; if she wanted your attention, she got it. So, drawing on the training Talon had inflicted on her (and didn’t that hurt to remember, too), Amélie schooled her face into a dispassionate mask and turned around. “ _ Salut _ , Lena. Just considering whether...whmf r oo oing?”

Tracer had blinked forward and was now squishing Amélie’s cheeks together with her index fingers. “You were makin’ that ridiculous face again. The one that looks like you’re tryin’ to breathe through your skin. Told ya I wouldn’t allow it, didn’t I?”

Amélie blinked once, trying to process the madness that occupied Tracer’s mind from day to day. Dismissing it from her mind, she tried to falsify the easy smile that had started to come to her lips when Lena was nearby. “ _ En effet. _ I was considering what to do now. I think I’ve moped around this old house for long enough. A change of scenery...perhaps Germany? Visit with  _ la chevaliere _ for a bit. From there, who knows?”

Lena stared at her for a moment, and Amélie thought perhaps she had gotten away with the lie, but then the speedster leaned in and poked her on the nose. “You are lying through your teeth.” And within a second, Lena had backed off to about a foot, and seemed to continue an entirely different conversation. “I came by to invite you over for New Years! I know you wanted to see Gerard for Christmas, but I really don’t think you should spend all the holidays with nothing but a gravestone for company. That out of the way…”

Tracer had gone from directly in front of Amélie to right behind her, arms loosely around the sniper, chin on her shoulder. “You have been dodging me for a week. I thought it was just the holidays and missing Gerard, but there’s something else going on and I want to know what it is. You haven’t shut me out like this in months. Talk, girl.”

Widow almost grappled away, but long experience had taught her that Lena would just follow her if she reacted explosively. “ _ Je vais bien, Traceur. Ne t’en fais pas. _ ”

“You’re not fine. I felt your arm twitch, you…do you not want me to touch you? What’s wrong, Amélie? I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

_ I can’t. You can’t. I can’t tell, and you can’t stop. I can’t tell you that I’ve fallen in love and you can’t stop being vibrant in a world full of grey. I can’t tell you that seeing you with her made me hurt in ways I thought I couldn’t hurt ever again after Gerard and Talon. You can’t stop being taken. _

Amélie wondered what the heat on her cheeks was, until she realized she was crying a little. She only vaguely registered Lena coming around her side and pulling her into a tight hug, which only made the hurt in her chest worse and forced more tears out of her. Before she knew it, the woman Talon had made was weeping openly for the first time in nearly a decade.

At some point, she realized she was being laid down, that Tracer was on her phone telling someone she would be late, and that her head was laying in Lena’s lap.

She fell asleep like that, emotionally exhausted.

* * *

When Amélie awoke again, she was alone, but there was a note steepled on her stomach. It was an address and a time, as well as an admonishment to “bloody well show up this time, or I’m coming to get you” with a tiny, badly drawn frowny face in a soft butch haircut.

Amélie smiled despite herself, and then busied herself getting ready.

She didn’t bother with much makeup anymore. Her skin was a strange shade, making blush and foundation entirely useless. Generally, Amélie just touched up her eyes and her lips. Her dresses were all horribly out of date (Lena kept trying to drag her shopping, for some reason), but she felt the more dated apparel fit her, enhancing her eerie beauty.

Slipping into the basement of the old house, she looked over Gerard’s wine collection. The man had been passionate, collecting vintages from France and Spain and Italy (“None of that crap from the colonies!”) that were decades old, some even approaching 60 years, now.

She hesitated in the stairwell for a moment. Despite the value of the bottles, Amélie avoided this section of the house. It was too poignant a reminder, the musty scent calling up times when Gerard would come up with a bottle for an anniversary or to entertain, shaking dust off of his coat and laughing at her scolding. She had never come down here, then, not even to dust or sweep. It was his space, and it felt like to take that last step into it would be to accept that he was dead.

Nonetheless, she had to move forward. If  _ they _ had taught her nothing else, that would stick. Getting mired in the past was for the weak, and  _ they _ had excised all weakness from her. One more sin for their anchor.

Shaking off the dust of old memories, Amélie stepped over to the oldest bottles. If she was going to leave (and her mind was still made up), she wanted to share one fantastic thing with Lena...and her girlfriend. Pulling some bottles, she found a couple that had gone rancid, stored improperly ( _ He must have gotten them just before… _ ), and she set them next to the stairwell to take up and pour out. Looking over her choices, she selected two of the best: a  _ Brunello di Montelcino _ from 2014 and a  _ Pessac-Leognan _ Sauvignon Blanc from 2035.

Excellent wines, and both almost certainly still good. Gerard had loved his hobby, and Jack, the sentimental old softie, had kept paying the income tax on the house, kept the power running. Amélie had returned to nothing more than a slightly overgrown garden and a bit of rust in the pipes.

* * *

Jack had told her he would be around, if she needed to talk, and offered to do any repairs that needed done. All of the old guard had felt compelled to seek her out, to apologize to her for not seeing what had happened, for not stopping  _ them _ .

As though her actions were not her own. It was appalling.

Jack had been kind, in his own way, fixing the gutters and the windows, keeping the house together. But he’d never been the type to commiserate or even really understand  _ emotions _ , and the cyberization had not helped him in that. In many ways, he was still the same as he had been in high school, just older and more bitter.

The dwarf had been hard. He’d told her to her face that he was still angry about what had happened, that he couldn’t totally let go of his anger with her, irrational as it was. He’d still opened his home to her, saying that he would at least try for Gerard’s sake, but the times she had spent with his wife and his brood had been tense for the adults. Too many bad memories, too many battlefields they’d warred across.

Reinhardt...Reinhardt had sympathised, but the German man was a boisterous personality, perhaps given to introspection at times, but not a man with whom Amélie felt a particular connection. They had spent some pleasant times together since her deprogramming, but he was a distant friend at best.

Ana had probably been the closest to actually understanding, she was a fellow sniper after all, but the two were both too passive to really delve into deep topics at tea. Still, Amélie appreciated the older woman’s attempts, and they had promised to meet once or twice a year.

Mercy had brought a surprise. Angela was dating Ana’s daughter, Fareeha, and the two had dropped by to take her out to lunch at some point. Fareeha had never really dropped her guard, but had been polite enough.

Angela...Amélie found it difficult to reconcile the woman with the image Reaper had built up of her. He had never been stable, but the topic of Mercy brought out the worst of his neuroses. He could curse her for an hour, screaming about the torment of his half-life, before breaking down, sobbing and stroking a picture of her, apologizing and begging her to just  _ fix  _ it.

As a result, Amélie found herself nearly as guarded towards her as Fareeha was towards Amélie herself. A woman who could inspire such virulent hatred and soaring admiration was dangerous. The lunch had not been repeated yet, though Amélie suspected that Angela was nearly as persistent as Lena in her own way.

Genji had been the only one of the “new” blood to come see her, and he had snuck in under cover of darkness. It was perhaps appropriate for a ninja, but it had startled her badly, and the resulting conversation had suffered for that. Still, he seemed to be a good man, and well-adjusted (if you ignored his preference for sneaking into people’s homes uninvited). It had helped ease her mind on the topic of Mercy, as well; Reaper had been a mistake, and Angela had apparently taken the lesson to heart.

But Lena…Lena had taken it onto herself to break the shell that Amélie had built up, to find the little girl at the heart of Widowmaker and comfort her. She had come by constantly, at first every week, and then every day when that failed to make any progress. Babbling, zipping around, poking at things, dragging Amélie around by the hand…

She’d refused to ever leave Amélie time to breathe or think or object, just kept her doing things and  _ living _ until finally she’d gotten through. And Amélie had to wonder if she’d even noticed that she had, because the girl hadn’t changed her behaviour at all. And acceptance had turned into a quiet admiration had turned into love. And now Amélie couldn’t imagine life without her, but she was  _ taken _ .

And it hurt every single time she remembered that.

* * *

It was slowly and carefully, laden with wine and memory, that Amélie made her way out of her husb… _ her _ house, and towards the address that Lena had left her. As she walked, She considered what she was going to say. It was obvious that Lena was going to introduce her to her lover (and apparently had been trying to for weeks).

Taking a breath, she turned the last corner between her house and the apartment building Lena lived on. She considered, for a moment, doing the same thing she had on Christmas and grappling up to the window.

Then she remembered the wine, and how much it had hurt to stand there, watching her kiss another woman, and simply buzzed the intercom.

Tracer’s head popped out of her window. “Oi, Amélie, just grapple up! No need to stand on ceremony, luv!”

“I have wine,  _ Traceur. _ Better not to risk them.”

Lena was on the other side of the door in a moment, opening it for her. “You went down…Amélie, you didn’t have to do that for us. We’re not fancy enough for that kind of…”

“ _ Non. _ Do not mention it. Gerard would not wish for his wine to turn to vinegar. ‘Good wine should be enjoyed, not squirreled away,’ he would have said, so let us enjoy it.”

“Alright. I’ll warn you, Emily’s a liquor girl and I mostly drink beer, so don’t expect deep conversation about the body and flavour.” Lena still looked a little concerned, but accepting, before turning to lead Amélie up the three flights to the flat.

Amélie spent most of that time trying and failing not to look at the woman’s incredible behind. Tracer was  _ fast _ , even without her time dilation, and that was reflected in her lower body, but she maintained a feminine shapeliness in spite (or perhaps because of) her muscle.

It was incredibly distracting. Amélie only realized that Lena was saying something when she half-turned and said her name. “Amélie? Are you sure you’re alright?”

Amélie fought to keep the blush off of her face.  _ You are not a teenager, and she is taken! Cesser!  _ “Lena, that was the first time I had wept in most of a decade. I feel more clear-headed than I have since I was deprogrammed.  _ Trust _ me, I’m alright.”

Lena’s face betrayed a certain uneasiness, until something flickered across her face. Amélie would have sworn that Tracer was wearing a knowing smile as she turned back to finish the flight of stairs. “Alright, alright, I’ll quit buggin’ ya about it.”

She wasn’t sure, but the butt she had been so distracted by seemed to be swaying even more now.

When they reached the fourth floor, Lena laid a hand on the door out of the stairwell, but hesitated. “So, Emily. I haven’t told her anything about our more, um,  _ violent _ history, but she knows what I do, and I may have mentioned something you did during an earlier conversation, I’m not sure. She’s perceptive and she frequently remembers what I’ve said better than I do. All I said was that I had a friend I wanted to invite over for New Years, so you might take her off guard at first.”

“Oh, is it just to be us tonight then? I would have thought at least…what is his name, your scientist gorilla friend.” Amélie was mildly embarrassed that she couldn’t remember the gorilla’s name, but her initial impression of him still tended to wash out his more genial demeanour.

“Winston, yeah, I would have invited him, but he got a call from Mei, something about variations in climato-something or others in South America, so he flew out there to do whatever scientists do. He’s leery of coming to our flat anyway, I’m sure you remember how much damage he can do when he wants to.”

“Quite clearly.” Amélie could be forgiven for having a slightly distant look at that. “Nonetheless, I’m sure I can get along with your  _ paramour. _ We may not quite have been  _ haute société _ , but Gerard and I moved in political circles. There was a reason he and I were targeted, beyond the cruelty of the betrayal.” There was still a pang of anger and hurt when she spoke of Gerard or her actions that day, but it was less and less with every day and every conversation.  _ Catharsis _ , the English called it.

Lena smiled a little, knowing, somehow, that the nonchalance was honest and not just a mask. “Alright. Onwards!”

As they walked into the half-floor flat, Tracer kicked off her shoes with the ease of long familiarity. “Emily? Amélie’s here, and she brought some fancy wine I can’t pronounce!” Taking the bottles and giving her a wink, Lena vanished into the deeper parts of the flat as she spoke, leaving Amélie to put her coat up in the closet and shake her head amusedly.

“Good, maybe it won’t taste like grape juice. Come on in, sit down, I’m just getting dinner in the oven, won’t be half a tick!” The woman’s voice was a pretty contralto, a bit of Dublin tinging her otherwise perfect London accent.

Amélie called back as she hung up her coat. “The  _ Brunello _ should breathe for a while before we pour, ideally at least an hour.” Stepping around the wall that separated the entrance from the rest of the flat, she met Emily’s eyes for the first time.

It was like getting hit with a sledgehammer. She was just so  _ gorgeously Irish. _ Green eyes, a playful tilt to her welcoming smile, freckles all over her cheeks, and hair as red as a sunset. Amélie felt her heart beat a little faster as Lena fought with a corkscrew in the background, muttering something about ancient devices and arcane sealing methods.

Somehow, Amélie’s usually laser-like focus was on both of them simultaneously, like they were a single unit. All of those moments with Lena suddenly felt like they had been incomplete, as though they had been without this one vital piece, unmissed until its lack was noted.

If it hadn’t been for her training, she likely would have keeled over in a shock-induced fit as all of her unacknowledged fantasies gained an extra pair of hands. As it was, she just blushed furiously and stammered a bit before regaining her composure. “Th-thank you for allowing me into your home. It’s lovely.”

Emily grinned. “You’re quite welcome, Amélie, and thank you.” Turning to Lena, she took the bottle with a smack on the ass. “Get out of my kitchen, ya hopeless dyke. You’ve brought a rich Frenchwoman into my home, least you can do is give her the tour.”

Yelping and relinquishing the bottle, Lena blinked out of the kitchen and showed Amélie around the flat.

* * *

The rest of the semi-impromptu dinner party was much the same. Amélie was caught in their rhythm, but she found she didn’t mind. Lena was just as implacable and inane as she ever was, but Emily had an acerbic, rapier-sharp wit and was unafraid to use it. Amélie caught herself smiling behind her hand or her wineglass a lot.

Their byplay never seemed forced or exclusionary, either. There was no particular effort to include Amélie, but neither did she ever feel like she was intruding. Small talk was lively and ran the gamut, from Emily and Amélie’s origins (Dublin and Leon, respectively) to recent political idiocy and world events.

Midnight ran up fast, and the three women wound up sitting on a single couch, Lena in the middle (of course), watching the fireworks launched from the Thames. Amélie felt a little uncomfortable when Lena and Emily kissed, but…

Analyzing the feeling, she found that it didn’t hurt nearly as much as she would have thought, to watch Lena kissing this beautiful, clever Irish woman. She caught herself blushing a bit as she considered what it might be like to kiss either of them.  _ Ou le deux… _

Shaking her head to clear the teenaged thoughts, she came back just in time to hear Lena excuse herself to the washroom.

For the first time in the evening, Amélie found herself alone with Emily, and the easy chat that had come to her earlier failed.

Emily didn’t seem to mind the quiet, though, and bustled about, turning off the television and taking the dishes to the kitchen for later cleaning. Coming back, she sat again on the couch and turned a little, lifting her knee up onto the seat so that she could face Amélie a little better. “You’re in love with my wife.”

Amélie blinked, flinched, and sighed a bit, shoulders slumping. “Is it that obvious?”

“To someone who’s been where you are? Yes, though maybe not to her. She  _ seems _ totally oblivious to the effect she has on the people around her, and I’ve never been entirely sure if it’s an act or not.” Emily was toying with a lock of her hair, but her gaze was steady. Amélie couldn’t bring herself to look the other woman in the eye.

“I won’t try, if that’s what you’re worried about. I was married myself for a while, and I cannot imagine how it would have felt if Gerard had been unfaithful. I won’t get in your way. I’m actually planning on leaving London for a while, to clear my head and visit some friends, so I won’t even be around to…” She found herself cut off by a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Looking over, Emily had scooted closer and was smiling warmly at her. From here, Amélie could catch tantalizing hints of the woman’s perfume. “Amélie, I’m not going to warn you off of my wife. Like I said, I’ve been where you are. Lena brought you over tonight because she’s nearly as enamoured of you as you are of her and she wanted my blessing, which I’m happy to give. Given a little more time and a few more nights like this and  _ I _ might ask you to our bed. I can see what she sees in you, and I’d like to see more. So—consider this carte blanche, and an open invitation to come back. Just  _ don’t _ run away, you’d break Lena’s heart.”

Amélie was speechless for a few moments. She knew the rules of prudent adultery, even if she and Gerard had never practiced, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to stick to them when it came to Lena. “I—I cannot—it would become emotional, for me at least! It would be unfair to both of us to, to…”

Emily just squeezed Amélie’s shoulder gently. “I’m not naive, Amélie. Like I said, I’ve been where you are. I trust Lena not to hurt me. At least give it some thought, and don’t run away, alright?”

Amélie swallowed thickly and nodded, at first shakily, and then more determinedly. “I will think on it. I—thank you, Emily.”

The Irish woman smiled and took her hand off of Amélie’s shoulder to stroke the back of it across the French woman’s cheek. Amélie caught herself almost nuzzling into the familiar touch. “No less than you would do for me, I feel. Now, Lena will be back shortly, so no tears.”

_ You are wrong, Emily. If I were in your position—I am so much more jealous than you, I suspect.  _ Dashing the tears from her eyes with the back of her wrist, Amélie composed herself.

* * *

It was only a few minutes later that Amélie left. Lena walked her out and, in a familiar turn, stopped in the stairwell. “Amélie, I _ —thank _ you for coming tonight. I was worried I really would have to come out there and drag you here by the wrist, and then you would have resented me for it. I  _ really  _ wanted you to meet Emily, she’s an important part of my life.”

Amélie smiled at Lena gently. “Other way around,  _ Traceur _ . You wanted Emily to meet me.” Reaching out, the widow drew the smaller woman into a light embrace that was happily returned, hooking her chin over the top of her head. “She and I had a bit of a talk while you were occupied. I _ — _ Lena, I need some space to think about this.  _ Je t’aime _ , more than I think you know, and I am a jealous lover. Give me a few days, hm? I will not run away, I will stay in London, and I will call you when I know my own mind.” Pushing her out a bit, Amélie held Lena at arms length and met her gaze steadily, still smiling a bit. “ _ Tu es une belle gêne. _ I  _ will  _ call you, Lena. I just need some time.”

Lena looked a bit put out, but smiled anyway. “Alright, Amélie, I’ll give you a little space. I know it’s sort of a strange situation.” A light blush dusted her cheeks before she continued. “Could _ — _ are you comfortable…”

Amélie only barely hesitated before bringing a hand to Lena’s chin, tilting the smaller woman’s head back. Leaning in, the two women brushed lips. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, but it was their first, and all the sweeter for the hesitance with which it was approached.

They lingered in the stairwell, looking into each other’s eyes for a few seconds before Lena, still a little flushed, turned and finished leading Amélie out of the building. Amélie turned once, at the corner, and saw that Tracer was still standing in the doorway, watching her leave. Raising her eyes, she saw Emily standing profiled in the window, smiling at her.

Those sights warded her against the January chill almost as well as her coat.


	2. Afterparty

Emily nursed at her tea as she stared out the window, smiling wryly. It was a clear night, and bright from the starlight reflected off of the snow. Amélie had just left, and Lena apparently wasn’t hurrying back.  _ Poor girl’s probably still ashamed. If she only knew. _

Amélie was a  _ fine _ woman, rocking a swimmer’s build, exotic skin, and gorgeous hair. She moved with a grace and confidence that only came from years of effort, but what really drew Emily was the vulnerability she could see behind the woman’s eyes. She wore sorrow like an old mantle, comfortable in its weight even as it dragged her down. Emily wasn’t sure what had happened to her specifically, but it didn’t change that the first thing she had wanted to do on locking eyes with the woman was sweep her into a hug and tell her it would be alright for a few hours.

Sipping at her tea, Emily shifted uncomfortably. She had been oscillating between aroused and not as the night went on, between the wine and the company, and her underwear was becoming decidedly uncomfortable. Not for the first time, she questioned the decision she’d come to. Emily adored Lena, and wanted nothing but her happiness, but it still had hurt a little the first time she’d seen the way her wife looked at the Frenchwoman.

But then, it hadn’t hurt so much she hadn’t seen the way Amélie flinched whenever she caught herself lingering a little too long on Lena, and she knew that look too well to wish it on anyone. She’d watched Lena fight through that for too long when they first met, before the younger woman had come out. So if someone else needed Lena the way Lena needed her, it wouldn’t really be fair to deny them that, would it?  _ And maybe...no. That’s silly. And greedy. What would your mother think? _

_ Well, actually, Mum’d probably just wink and set an extra spot at the table. Da’s the one who’d have a quiet coronary, and it’d be over our lack of children. Something something adopt something don’t they have gene splicing something something harrumph turn newspaper page pretend disinterest. Maybe we should all three sit down for a discussion at some point, then.  _

Emily’s rumination was interrupted when she heard the door to the apartment close, followed seconds later by Lena’s arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her into the younger woman tightly. Taking another sip of her tea, Emily leaned into the hug, interlacing her other hand’s fingers with her lover’s. “I take it, then, that seeing her off went well?”

Lena’s actual reply was basically just a squeak lost into Emily’s spine, but the redhead got the gist from long hours spent with the woman. ‘Yes, something happened, I’m embarrassed and aroused and guilty and confused, make me feel better.’

Setting the cup down, Emily twisted in Lena’s grasp and returned her embrace. “It’s perfectly alright, sweetie. I’m not mad, and I won’t  _ get _ mad. You’re not going to hurt my feelings by being a grown woman with grown desires.”

Lena still wouldn’t meet her eyes, instead resting her forehead in the crook of Emily’s neck. “But I’m married to _you._ _You’re_ supposed to be _enough_ , _you’re_ supposed to be the only one who makes me feel like that.”

_ Time to put that college psych class to work.  _ “Sweetheart, you’ve spent the last four months supporting that woman, and she  _ still _ looks like she’s only barely over whatever loss she’s suffered. I can only imagine what she was like before. She  _ adores _ you, and you don’t spend four months around someone like that, being their best friend and emotional center without reciprocating at least a little. Add in that she’s an incredibly attractive member of your preferred gender and…well, that’s how  _ we  _ ended up together, isn’t it? How can I convince you that this is alright?”

Lena was silent for a solid minute, her steady breathing tickling Emily’s collarbone. “Tell me you love me. No matter what.”

Emily unknowingly did almost exactly the same thing that Amélie had done ten minutes ago, pushing Lena out to arm’s length for a moment before drawing her back in gently. Cupping her wife’s chin, she met Lena’s eyes and brought their noses together. “Lena Oxton, I love you. I love you today, I loved you yesterday, and I will love you tomorrow. There is not a thing that you could possibly do  _ to _ or  _ with _ another human being that could change that. The day I met you was the best of my life, and I swore before God and man that I would stay with you ‘til the stars burned out when I took your name. I am not a jealous little girl, going to turn up my nose and take my ball home when it asks to be shared.  _ Is breá liom tú an méid sin. Iontaobhas dom, croí. _ ”

Emily watched the guilt and shame slowly melt out of Lena’s eyes, to be replaced by love and amusement. “So I’m a ball, now? Do you want to roll me around? Should I start eating more?”

Snorting, Emily gave her wife a quick, hard kiss. Pulling back, she replied. “By the time I heard how bad the analogy was, I was already committed. Should have gone for cat or dog or something.”

Lena smiled mischievously and moved her hands down Emily’s back, finally letting them rest on the curve of her ass. “Well, we do still have those fox ears I wore for Halloween…”

Bending down, Emily swept Lena up into a bridal carry. “If you are going to make lewd suggestions, I should warn you that I’m a little drunk and have spent the evening around a pair of very fine women. You should be careful what you say, I might just take you up on it.”

Giggling, Lena playfully fought back. “Oh noooo, this cruel Irish woman is going to steal my virtue, someone please help me~” The couple stumbled into the bedroom, still giggling and play-fighting right up until Emily set Lena’s feet down, whereupon they both abruptly sobered, Lena’s hands toying with Emily’s collar even as Emily’s arms encircled the younger woman tightly.

“I love you.”

It wasn’t really clear which one of them said it first, but it hardly mattered, the result was the same. Their lips met, at first lightly, but each visit brought more passion, more fuel to the fire growing in their hearts and loins. Their hands moved with the smooth precision brought on by years of practice, stripping the layers of clothing they wore until they were both standing totally nude, forehead to forehead, drinking each other’s eyes hungrily.

Leaning in, Emily nibbled at Lena’s collarbone, moving from her clavicle to her ear with slow, lingering kisses, pressing her wife backwards towards the bed. Inevitably, Lena’s knees hit the edge of the mattress, whereupon she folded like a cheap pair of slacks.

Instead of following her lover down onto the bed, however, Emily spread her legs, reached between them, and spread her unshaven labia with her index and ring fingers. Meeting Lena’s eyes, she slowly plunged her middle finger into and out of her moist core, inviting her wife to her body.

Slipping off of the bed and onto her knees, Lena leaned forward, her arms coming up between Emily’s spread legs to wrap around her hips. Lena’s hands, moving with an easy hunger, shifted Emily’s fingers into her mouth, using her tongue to delicately lave them clean. Her fingers slipped easily into position, touching and stroking and eventually spreading Emily’s lips, her mouth all the while busy getting the first taste of her wife.

Emily pulled her fingers from Lena’s mouth with a gentle pop before immediately twining that hand into her wife’s soft, brown hair and encouraging her forward. Dipping low, Lena ran her tongue up from the bottom of her wife’s spread pussy delicately, eliciting shivers from the redhead. “Lena, no teasing now.”

“Or what?” Lena retorted, grinning up at her wife while shifting herself forward to sit on her heels, her knees together behind Emily.  _ She knows what I want. Good girl. _

“Or  _ this _ .” Intensifying the grip she had on her wife’s head, Emily pulled Lena’s head into her crotch with a great deal of enthusiasm, dragging a subtle moan from her lover. Letting her knees sag a bit, she put just a touch of her body weight onto Lena’s face as she grabbed at one of her own breasts with her free hand. “Get that tongue working, girl. You’re not getting up until I’m satisfied.”

Immediately, Lena’s warm, wet muscle was writhing into Emily’s channel, along with a gentle hum as Lena settled into her role. Letting her eyes drift, Emily luxuriated in the feeling of Lena’s lips and tongue for a moment. Gyrating her hips slightly, she pulled Lena back a bit, both to give her a bit of air and to guide her attentions towards Emily’s clit. “There’s my girl. You know you look beautiful down there, right?”

An enthusiastic “mm!” was all the answer she got to her question as she pushed Lena’s face into her cunt. Emily made sure to meet Lena’s eyes, enjoying the submissive arousal she saw there nearly as much as she did the cunnilingus. “Lenaaa...there, sweetheart, right there, fucking...gah! That’s it, fucking...shit, Lena, you’re so pretty looking up at me like thaaaat!”

Lena’s hands roamed as she sucked and licked at Emily’s unshaven slit and dainty button, groping at her lover’s ass and thighs, running up and down her fair, freckled skin. Pulling her wife a little bit closer, Emily felt as the tip of Lena’s tongue slid between her lips, parting the slick folds for only a moment in any given spot. It was heavenly, and she rolled her hips forward and back a few more times, just to feel her quim split and close around Lena’s tongue as she let her head loll backwards. “Ohhhh, Lena, don’t stop, don’t you  _ dare _ stop. This is a much better use of your tongue than all thaaaaaat backsass, don’t you thi- _ hink _ ?”

She felt one of Lena’s fingers take over the zippering motion then as Lena’s mouth returned to her clit, a satisfied hum reverberating across it. Emily could feel the tension in her calves mounting as Lena’s attentions hurried her towards the cliff of her climax. She only barely held herself back when she felt a second finger join the first, fluttering a little back and forth as they split her. “Lee- _ heena whatdidIsay _ about teeeeeasing…fuck meeeee, Lena.”

Instead of complying, however, Lena’s ministrations slowed, slowing Emily’s climb significantly, even starting to wind her down a bit as the zippering stopped at the back of her pussy and Lena’s tongue gently tickled at the tip of her clit. “Lenaaaa...I will keep you down there, don’t think I won’t.”

As soon as that growled admonition had left her mouth, Emily felt Lena’s fingers begin to push into her core, slowly at first, but rapidly gaining momentum as they became slick with her natural lubrication. A third quickly joined them as Lena began to run her tongue underneath Emily’s clit, coaxing it even further out from under its hood and suckling at it. “Ffffffuck yes, fucking...Lenaaaa, curl your fingers a bit, just like that, yes yes yesyesyes fucking  _ fuck me _ just like  _ that _ ...fuuuuuck til I cum, make me cum, Lena, you’d better make me cummm _ mmm _ !”

There was a familiar warmth and tension spreading through Emily’s gut as Lena’s tongue and fingers worked their magic. Slowly at first, but with growing speed, Emily’s awareness checked out, her whole world narrowing to the woman she was riding; her eyes, full of lust and submission; her peaked nipples, brushing against Emily’s legs with each heartbeat; her hand, groping and stroking at the Irishwoman’s ass and thighs, and occasionally pressing gently at her rear entrance; her fingers, pounding into Emily’s depths, curling and twisting in her canal, brushing her g-spot with every pass; her lips and tongue, licking and sucking at her button. “Leeenaaa _ hh _ fucking...gonna...cum...fucking yes yes yesyesyes _ yesyesthat’sitfffUCK!” _

With one last winch, the tension that had built uncoiled in one long drawn out moment as her pussy clamped down on the fingers inside, drawing them as far in as they could go. As her legs gave out, she vaguely felt Lena shift so that she fell forward onto the bed rather than backwards into the dresser, but all of her focus was gone, spent on keeping the warmth inside for as long as possible.

As she came back into focus, she felt Lena straddling her ass and rubbing her back. Turning her head, she let Lena initiate a kiss and luxuriated in it for a moment before saying anything. “Mmn. Now that’s a lovely thing.”


End file.
